


The Majestic Stag

by Zetal (Rodinia)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Cursed objects, Gen, Sam is sensitive about his identification, Were-animals, no seriously this is crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is turned into a were-stag.  Unfortunately for Team Free Will, Crowley is the best choice to fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Majestic Stag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [posingasme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/gifts), [Cuddlykangaroo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuddlykangaroo/gifts).



> PosingAsMe: "Wasn't there once that idea of Sam being transformed into a were-stag, and Crowley calls him a moose, and he's like, "I beg your pardon! I'm a beautiful stag!" I prompt that."
> 
> So I went back and found the comment thread that came from.
> 
> CuddlyKangaroo: "Sorry to but in but I always liked the idea of sam being a were-stag because I hink it'd be funny for people to tease him calling him a moose and he just gets so indignant like 'how dare you I am not a moose I am a majestic stag you uncultured asshole'"

As cursed objects went, this one didn’t seem too bad. Sam had certainly felt _something_ when he picked it up, but as near as he could tell, he was fine. He told Dean about it, and Bobby, and they’d both been keeping a careful eye on him for a week, and nothing. He’d even asked Castiel to check him out, and Castiel gave him a clean bill of health.

They’d all missed something.

To be fair, it was probably pretty easy to miss that Sam had been turned into a were-something or other when it wasn’t anywhere near the full moon. Tonight, though, Sam had gone out to pick up something for dinner. As soon as the moonlight touched his skin, he felt himself shifting. Into what, he didn’t really know. Four legs, really heavy head. Antlers, he decided after some careful experimentation. But it was hard to identify a particular species without seeing himself.

Where did an antlered animal go to get a look at itself, though?

The motel room was out. For one thing, Sam wasn’t sure if he could get his antlers through the door. For another, his brother might decide to shoot an animal that was trying to get into their room. For a third, hooves were less than ideal for manipulating room keys.

Manipulate. It came from Latin _manipulus_ , which meant handful. Of course hooves wouldn’t be able to manipulate anything, hooves weren’t hands.

Water was reflective. Sam tried to remember if there was water anywhere around. The creek running behind the motel was probably out, it flowed too fast and had too many rocks to really give much of an image. But the motel had an outdoor swimming pool. That might work.

Sam walked sedately back to the motel, ignoring the stares he got from the few other people who were out walking around this late at night. When he got to the motel, he took off running to jump the fence into the pool area. The jump was magnificent. He felt like he was flying. The landing, on the other hand…

Can you really call it a landing when you touch down, bounce a couple times, skid, and end up falling into the water you came to look into?

At least Sam wasn’t hurt. He gathered himself together and swam toward the shallow end, where he could leap out of the pool. This one went better, as he only skidded a little on the slick surface. He turned around and looked in the water.

He was majestic. Some kind of deer. He didn’t look like the deer Sam was familiar with. For one thing, he was too big. What else was new? The antlers didn’t look right, either. They forked once at the base, and then the larger of the branches forked near the top. He was a bit weirded out when he saw the hairless, blood-red spot on his throat. And what kind of deer had a mane?

He looked up at the sound of people coming toward him. He probably should get out of there. He jumped the fence again, this time managing not to fall over as he landed, and took off for the creek.

 

In the morning, Sam was back to human. But now he had other problems to think about.

Like the one calling him.

“Dean?”

“Where the hell have you been, Sammy? Been tearing up this entire town looking for you!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah? You call Cas yet?”

“No.”

“Were you going to?”

“Eventually,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, he’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had. He made a mistake and did some really bad things, yeah. But the way I see it, that just makes him even more one of us,” Sam said. “You’re gonna have to forgive him eventually.”

“Yeah? How’s your head, Sammy?”

“Fine. I mean, it’s under control, I’m not tortured or hallucinating or whatever it is you’re worried might still happen now that I’ve got my memories back. And that’s thanks to Cas. He did what he could to save me.”

“Of course, it’s his fault your wall fell in the first place,” Dean snapped. “Back to the first question. Where have you been?”

“Okay, you’re not gonna believe this, but remember that cursed totem thing I picked up last week before we realized it was cursed?” Sam said.

“The one that everyone, Cas included, said didn’t do anything to you?”

“Yeah. It did something to me,” Sam said. “I spent the whole night as a stag.”

“What, like…”

Sam resisted the urge to facepalm. “No, Dean. Not like the party. As in an actual, literal male deer. With antlers.”

“Wait a minute…” Dean was laughing hard. “I heard people talking this morning about a moose or something that made a mess out of the pool area. Please tell me that was you.”

Sam lost his fight with the facepalm. “I am not a moose, I am a stag. There’s a difference. But, yes, unless there’s one hell of a coincidence that was me in the pool last night.”

Dean’s laughter got so hard Sam was starting to seriously worry about his ability to breathe. “Sam, I’ve heard of stag parties that ended up with someone getting thrown in the pool, but I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to do it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Sam grumbled. “We need to reopen the cursed object case now that we know it’s doing something to me, unless you want me antlering the windows in the Impala or give up driving at night during a full moon.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know that even if we do figure out how to break this I’m not doing it until after I’ve seen my majestic moose of a brother in his natural form?” Dean said.

“ _Stag_ , not moose!” By now Sam had reached the door. “Hanging up now.”

When he got into the room, Sam’s first priority was to get a shower and clean clothes. Then he got on the laptop and started researching. Dean was very helpful, telling every joke he could remember or invent that involved deer, moose, elk, or Sam. After the five hundred forty-seventh, or thereabouts, Sam huffed in annoyance. “Dean, you can either shut up, or I can smash the laptop over your head. Your choice.”

“Dude. You’d never break your precious like that,” Dean said. He held up his hands when Sam picked up the laptop. “Fine, you’re not in the right mood to appreciate my hilariousness, okay.” He picked up the little granite frog that had caused all this. “Why’d a frog turn you into a stag?”

“Don’t look at me. The only thing I’ve been able to learn is that I’m a were-sambar. It’s a type of deer native to India.” Sam turned the laptop to show Dean a picture.

Dean’s face lit up with glee. “Dude. You’re a deer with a mane. Even as an animal your hair is ridiculous and shaggy!” He started singing “Sammy the Shaggy Mane-Deer”, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut.

He hadn’t even realized he was praying until he heard the wings. “Sam. What’s wrong?” Castiel turned to look in Dean’s direction. “Aside from your brother’s inability to sing. Which I can’t do anything about. I’m sorry.”

“Hi, Cas. So, um, that cursed frog thing?” Castiel nodded. “It turned me into a were-sambar.”

Castiel went to Dean and took the frog from him. Dean paused in his singing to stick out his tongue. “Yes, I can feel it now. The curse can be activated at any time, but it will only become apparent during the time of the full moon. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“What exactly _is_ the curse?” Sam asked.

Castiel turned the frog over a couple times. “It will turn the person who touches it into a were-animal that reflects something of their nature. You became a sambar. Dean, I suspect, would become a mockingbird, or possibly a howler monkey.”

Sam chuckled at that. “Any thoughts on how to break it?”

“Yes. You won’t like it, though.” Castiel set the frog down next to the laptop. “The object was cursed centuries ago, by a powerful witch named Rowena. Her son’s hatred for her is strong enough that he would likely jump at the chance to undo her work, even if it means helping you.”

“Okay, so… wait, centuries ago, but her son’s still alive? How does that work?” Sam said.

“Strictly speaking, her son is dead. Her son was Fergus MacLeod.”

“Crowley,” Dean said, finally shutting up and getting serious. “Seriously? Everything that’s happened, and you want us to call _Crowley_ for help? You didn’t learn a damn thing, did you!”

“It’s the quickest and easiest way to end the curse. Rowena’s spellcraft was strong and subtle, and it would take another witch days to learn enough about this to safely reverse the spell,” Castiel said. “Of course, you’re free to try. Just don’t call me when Sam is stuck as a sambar or a bizarre hybrid of human and deer or exploded.”

“Fine. We’ll do this tonight. He better come through, though,” Dean said.

 

The three spent most of the day setting up the ritual to summon Crowley in an abandoned building on the outskirts of town. When the sun went down and Sam transformed, Dean raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Yeah, that’s… you’re majestic, all right, Sammy.”

“This form does suit you well,” Castiel said.

Sam huffed and jerked his head toward the summoning bowl. Dean took the hint, calling up Crowley.

“Winchesters. Dean. To what do I owe the displeasure?” Crowley said. He looked around. “Traded in your moose for a prettier one, I see.” Sam reared up on his hind legs, and only Castiel’s hand on his flank kept him from charging Crowley. “And your bird’s here, too. Hello, Castiel, betrayed anyone in the last week?”

“Bite me,” Castiel said.

“Gladly, just let me out of the circle.” Crowley looked back at Dean. “You do have a reason for summoning me, I assume?”

“Yeah.” Dean tossed Crowley the frog. “Cas says your mom made that. That’s why Sam’s a stag. Mind giving your mom the middle finger by fixing it for us?”

“Much as I love giving my mother the middle finger, remind me again why I’m supposed to care that Sam’s become better-smelling and somewhat smarter?” Crowley held up a finger. “Ah, right, let me guess. Because I’m in your circle, and if I don’t, you’ll kill me or keep me trapped here forever.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Dean said.

“Hmm. Here’s my counteroffer: I fix the moose, but I get to see what the two of you turn into with Mummy’s little trick,” Crowley said. “And yes, I’ll fix the both of you as well.”

“How do we know it’ll even work on Cas?” Dean asked.

Crowley shrugged. “I’ll be disappointed in dear ol’ mum if it doesn’t, but if she really was that unimaginative, then that’s on her, not you.”

“Cas?”

“How do we know you’ll keep your word?” Castiel asked.

“You don’t. But then, I don’t know that you’ll keep yours either. I have to break the spell on Moose here before the bloody frog will do anything to you.”

Cas glared at Crowley, but he nodded to Dean. “Do it,” Dean said.

Crowley did a quick chant, and Sam found himself back human again. He heard Dean’s laughter, but ignored it in favor of diving at Crowley and punching him. “I am not a moose! I am a majestic stag, you uncultured asshole!”

Crowley stepped back. “Dean, call off your moose, or I’m hitting him with the frog.”

Castiel came forward and pulled Sam back. “Don’t give him the satisfaction,” he growled in Sam’s ear.

“But… oh, fine.” Sam folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s get this over with.”

Castiel held out his hand. “Give me the frog, Crowley.”

“Gladly.” Crowley tossed the frog to Cas. Dean caught it as it fell to the floor, and tossed it back to Crowley. Cas, meanwhile, shrank into a lovely tan guinea pig. Crowley smirked. “You sure you want me to turn him back? He’s so much cuter like this.”

“He’s plenty cute normal. Turn him back,” Sam said.

Dean pointed at Sam. “What he said.”

“Fine.” Crowley chanted again, and Castiel was back to his human form. “You’re up, Squirrel.” He tossed the frog to Dean.

Dean’s transformed form resembled Sam’s, although smaller, naturally, less shaggy, and instead of antlers, he had two long, curved horns. “Oh my god,” Sam said. “Dean’s an impala.”

“Right. Well, if you’ll kindly pass the frog back, I have a curse to break.” Sam picked up the frog and tossed it to Crowley. “Break the trap first.”

“Why?” Castiel said.

“Oh, this is tedious. Blah blah you don’t trust me, blah blah I don’t trust you, blah blah none of us want to sit here staring at the majestic impala until the next time doomsday hits, just set me bloody free so I can get out of here as soon as the curse is gone.” Dean moved forward, scraping at the paint until there was a crack. “Good squirrel.” He chanted, and was gone before Dean was fully human again.

**Author's Note:**

> A sambar is a species of deer native to India. I originally chose it because of course SAM is going to be a SAMbar if he's going to be any kind of deer. Then I did some research, and it's the largest of the cervid family except for elk and moose, and it has a mane. Perfect for Sam, right?  
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/pratti/6353602873 - this is the photo I used for reference.  
> From Wikipedia: “A stag will also mark himself by spraying urine on his own face with a highly mobile penis.” I will leave it to someone more porn-minded than me to do something with the highly mobile penis, but I’m sure someone can come up with something appropriately cracktastic.
> 
> I went to Google Images to search for pictures of stags and moose to use as inspiration. The moose search made me laugh so hard. At the top, where it offers suggestions to refine your search, two of my options: “squirrel” and “sam”.
> 
> Comments feed my crack habit!


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